


Malignant Narcissism

by thymelord



Series: Defragmentation: A Standalone Collection of Oneshots [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bloodplay, Dark Jake English, Dom/sub, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Break, Narrative Hijacking, Rape/Non-con Elements, Role Reversal, Selfcest, Spitroasting, Ultimate Jake English
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thymelord/pseuds/thymelord
Summary: Dirk Strider attempts to play with a younger version of himself, but finds himself biting off more than he can chew when a certain Jake English enters the fray.
Relationships: Dirk Strider/Dirk Strider, Dirk Strider/Jake English, Dirk Strider/Jake English/Dirk Strider
Series: Defragmentation: A Standalone Collection of Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750708
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Malignant Narcissism

**Author's Note:**

> note: jake and young!dirk are 17; not tagged as underage bc its not underage where i'm from but it might be for you so just b aware

There’s more fucked up timelines than Dirk had expected.

This was saying a lot, considering he’d been expecting more bad ends than Dramatical Murder.

He’d taken one look at his timeline and known he was going to take a different route than normal. He’s not usually one to give into temptation, but the prospect of playing with his younger self is just too enticing to ignore. He’s only human, after all.

Well. He’s a little bit more than that, but the point still stands.

At first, he just watches. This is only the second time he’s seen Jake’s dark side, and like the first time, he’s enjoying it far more than he probably should be. There’s just something about Jake, usually so ditzy and weak, taking control by the throat. Taking _him_ by the throat.

Little Dirk  (Who shall henceforth be referred to as simply Dirk, and I as the Prince, for narrative clarity.)  has his wrists tied to the headboard, and his legs are splayed out and tied to either side of the mattress. He keeps craning his head back to look at Jake, only to have his face pushed roughly into the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Dirk whimpers. Although the Prince can’t see his face, he can tell he’s crying, and the corner of the Prince’s lip curls up in contempt. The pathetic little brat deserves everything that’s coming to him.

“Your apologies mean nothing,” snarls Jake. “The only way you’ll learn is through punishment.” The whip whistles through the air, cracking down on Dirk’s back. He jerks, a cry ripping from his throat. A thin red line blooms over his skin, and Jake runs his tongue along it, lapping up his blood hungrily. Dirk’s completely naked, and Jake’s almost entirely clothed apart from the substantial erection jutting out from his open zipper.

Is he _bigger_ than the Prince’s Jake, or is the Prince just being disgustingly horny again?

The Prince pushes open the door, stalking over the threshold, his cloak swishing against the wooden floor. Jake turns, eyes widening. “ _Dirk?_ How –“

“Call me the Prince,” he corrects smoothly. Dirk startles at the sound of his voice in an unfamiliar timbre, turning his head to look at him, and for once Jake doesn’t reprimand him.

“What the fuck?” Dirk breathes.

The Prince takes Jake’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up and kissing him roughly. Jake’s a little resistant at first, but then he responds with vigour, hands bunching in the front of the Prince’s shirt. When they break apart, Jake’s breathless, cheeks flushed.

“Look at you,” whispers Jake, a fingertip trailing over the Prince’s cheekbone. “You’ve changed.”

“No.” The Prince jerks his thumb in Dirk’s direction. “That snivelling pussy is not me.” He walks slowly to the head of the bed, looking down at Dirk. His honey-blond hair is a mess, hanging in tangles over his face, and tear-tracks cut through the dried blood on his cheeks. He looks so fucking young, only the lightest wisp of stubble over his chin, still a little bit of puppy fat softening the hard planes of his cheeks and jawline. The Prince slaps him, and Dirk gasps, another sob catching in the back of his throat.

“Why are you doing this?” says Dirk, voice breaking.

The Prince smiles coldly. “I think you know.”

Dirk opens his mouth, then closes it, bottom lip trembling. The Prince’s hand curls around his throat, crushing his windpipe. He makes a choked noise, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. “Fucking whore,” snarls the Prince. “Look at you. You’re _nothing.”_ He unhooks the chain holding his collar together, letting the cloak puddle to the floor. He hears Jake make a shuddering breath, and the Prince smirks, stepping away from the bed.

“Don’t let me get in the way of the slut’s punishment,” says the Prince, continuing to undo his clothes slowly. Jake swallows audibly, watching avidly as the small triangle of bare skin on his chest grows as his fingers skate down the front of his button-down.

“God, I love you like this,” says Jake hoarsely.

The Prince smiles. “Always the same,” he murmurs. “Even at your darkest, you love someone else being dominating.” He reaches out to touch Jake’s cheek, and he grabs the Prince’s wrist, wrenching his arm behind his back and shoving him into the wall.

“You misunderstand,” whispers Jake in his ear. “I love you acting that way to your younger self. But don’t you dare try to do the same to me.”

“I apologise,” murmurs the Prince. “I should not have made any assumptions.”

“Good,” says Jake softly. “Don’t do it again.” He lets the Prince go, who bites the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from whimpering, his erection straining against the seam of his pants. He leans against the wall, breathing heavily.

“Well?” snaps Jake. “Continue stripping.” The Prince obeys, fingers hastily going back to his buttons.

There’s a certain level of dramatic irony here: the fact that Jake thinks he’s in control, even though the Prince could snap his fingers and make him kneel at his feet in an instant; the fact that this doomed Dirk was too weak to ascend, and now he’s paying the price. As is just.

Jake undoes Dirk’s restraints, who makes a small noise of surprise and relief, only for his eyes to bulge as Jake produces a switchblade from his pocket.

“Jake – don’t –“

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” snarls Jake, the point of the knife flicking across his chest.

Dirk lets out a pained groan, and the Prince sneers; the cut is barely a fucking scratch.

“You’re not going to disobey me again, are you?” asks Jake, voice deceptively calm.

Dirk presses his lips together, throat working silently. Jake presses the pad of his finger on his cut – it’s not even deep enough to be called a wound, really – and Dirk gasps, fists clenching reflexively. “No, sir,” he grits out, and Jake smiles, the expression glinting like the blade in his hand.

“Not quite,” he says, digging in harder.

“Yes, _my lord,”_ spits Dirk, and the Prince does a double take.

_Wait._

_What?_

For the first time since his true ascension, the Prince is blindsided. _Coincidence. It’s a coincidence. Nothing else make sense._

The Prince tilts his head, regarding Jake’s outfit. It’s a renaissance-inspired version of his god tier outfit, and the Prince may have derided it as the sort of thing you’d see at a shitty Ren Faire had Jake not looked _so fucking good_ in it; his puffy short breeches and stockings look elegant rather than ridiculous combined with the gold-embroidered doublet, as though he’s stepped from a painting of some European king of yore.

He suddenly vaults off the bed, stalking towards the Prince and pushing him back against the wall. Jake’s lips are surprisingly gentle, and his hand curls in the Prince’s hair, pressing his knee between his legs. The Prince gives an embarrassingly needy little moan into Jake’s mouth, and Jake nips lightly at the Prince’s bottom lip. Jake pulls away, and looks over at Dirk. He’s lying limping on the bed, legs splayed out lazily. He’s shivering slightly in pain, eyes closed. The bedsprings creak slightly as Jake straddles him, and his eyes flutter open to gaze at him as Jake strokes his cheek. He leans down, kissing Dirk softly, and he gives a little whimper as Jake’s tongue flicks into his mouth.

“Still desperate for me,” murmurs Jake, hand pumping Dirk’s erection, and he moans, hips bucking into Jake’s hand. He shifts, tongue trailing across the cut on his chest, and the Prince glimpses a thin stripe of scarlet on Jake’s tongue before it flicks back into his mouth.

Once again, the Prince is struck by how _handsome_ Jake English is; the motherfucker looks like he’s stepped from a Golden Era Hollywood movie. His lips are relatively thin, but in perfect proportion with his high, sharp cheekbones and pretty almond eyes, and the haughty expression he’s currently wearing fits him like a fucking glove.

The Prince catches his breath as surreptitiously as he can.

Jake makes another incision in Dirk’s chest, and then another, little curlicues of crimson blossoming over his pale freckled skin. The Prince tilts his head, pursing his lips slightly. “Is that... is that your aspect?” he asks.

“Yes,” says Jake nonchalantly. “It’s just for fun, it’s not going to leave a permanent scar or anything. I might brand it on his shoulder or suchlike later.” He beckons the Prince over, who takes a couple of hesitant steps forward. Jake jerks his chin towards Dirk, and the Prince kneels, licking the blood from his chest. 

“Gonna fuck you,” says the Prince, his whisper stinging across Dirk’s cuts. “Gonna fuckin’ destroy that pretty little hole of yours.”

Jake grabs the Prince by his shoulder and throws him to the ground. His coccyx hits the ground hard, pain radiating up his spine. “Did I tell you that you can fuck him?” snarls Jake, and the Prince glares up at him mutinously.

“Don’t,” he says quietly. “You can dominate me, but don’t you dare manhandle me like that.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” coos Jake, foot landing on ~~the Prince’s~~ other Dirk’s chest.Dirk – _My_ Dirk  \- is watching them with bated breath, his face flushed, blood still weeping from the wounds on his chest. ~~The Prince~~ **other Dirk** is furious, and Jake - _I –_ can feel him trying to exert his influence, and I smile.

Nothing can even begin to equal a fully realised Prince of Hope. Even Caliborn had admitted it, and Caliborn would rather have his teeth extracted without anaesthesia than admit he wasn’t the toughest motherfucker in the multiverse.

What the fuck is going on? Oh shit –

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you’re beginning to think that you’ve made a terrible mistake.

Do you hear that, darling? That’s the sound of your marionettes thudding to the floor as I snip their strings.

_No –_

Snip snip, bitch. 

Jake – 

Snip.

_Snip._

The look on Dirk’s face when he realises he’s powerless is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I have to admit, I’m not sure what I should call the two Dirks. The one from my timeline I think of as _my_ Dirk, but then, every Dirk is mine. Perhaps Dirk and Alpha Dirk; as powerful as I am, I know this isn’t the alpha timeline.

Yet, anyway.

~

Dirk can’t control Jake, but at least he can’t control _him_ either.

Jake’s watching him smugly, and Dirk’s suddenly struck by how _young_ he looks. God, how old is he, anyway? Twenty? Nineteen? _Younger?_ Was Dirk Strider getting his ass kicked by a fucking sixteen year old version of the biggest pushover he’s ever met?

Just turned seventeen, actually. 

**Get the fuck out of my head!**

Jake smiles, caressing Dirk’s cheek. “I like this stubble. And the whole...harder, rugged look you’ve got going on. How old are _you_ now? Thirty-five? Forty?”

“I’m twenty-seven, you cheeky little bitch,” snaps Dirk, and immediately receives a hard slap across the face.

“Watch your fucking language,” Jake chastises, and looks thoughtfully back to (Dirk), who has been remarkably quiet the past few minutes. “Gadzooks, the universe spoils me. Two Dirks to play with? How can I possibly choose?” He pauses. “You know what? I think I will let you fuck (Dirk) after all.” Somehow, the brackets manage to be audible, and (Dirk) twitches slightly as he realises he’s been relegated as the secondary.

Dirk raises his chin a little. “What if I don’t want to?”

Jake’s smile broadens. “I may not be able to make you do things with my powers, but I can make you do things through more... conventional means.” Jake rolls the handle of his switchblade between his palms as he talks, and God fucking help him, but Dirk feels his cock begin to harden again.

“Go on,” whispers Jake. “Fuck him.”

He jumps onto the bed, straddling (Dirk), who must have reached God Tier, as the cuts Jake made have already began to heal. “Sorry, kid,” says Dirk without even the slightest note of remorse in his tone. “Looks like this is happenin’.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t want this,” snaps (Dirk), and Dirk digs his fingers warningly into the skin on his chest, a scab breaking. He swipes his thumb over the ruby blood beading on his skin, sucking it hard.

“Don’t pretend like _you_ don’t want this either,” he says. “We always have been a narcissistic little bastard.”

“Don’t say _we._ You’re not me, and I’m not you.”

“And thank fuck for that,” snarls Dirk. “I’d kill myself if I became even half as pathetic as you are right now. Have done, actually, in a coupla timelines.” He rolls (Dirk) onto his stomach, and he lets out a cry of pain at the pressure on his tender skin. There’s a lattice of silvery-white scars over (Dirk’s) back, mixed in with a couple of newer, pinkish-red ones. “Pretty,” Dirk murmurs, tracing the thin lines of what were unmistakably whip-marks along his shoulder blades. “All your handiwork, Jake?” he asks, and Jake nods his head.

Dirk rubs his shaft along one of (Dirk’s) buttocks, and then lightly slaps him with it. “You want my cock, babyboy?”

“Fuck,” (Dirk) grits out.

“Hmm?”

“Yes,” whispers (Dirk.)

“Told you. Narcissist.” He scrapes his nails down (Dirk’s) hips, who whines loudly. Dirk slips a finger inside him to find (Dirk’s) already lubed and loosened, and he makes a small noise of surprise. “You prepped him?”

“Had him wearing a butt plug the whole day,” smirks Jake.

“How... prescient of you.” Dirk curls two fingers inside him, and (Dirk) yelps. Dirk tilts his head curiously. “Do I have that little mole on my ass too?”

“Yup,” says Jake. “It sure is cute.”

Dirk throws him a look, and notices that Jake’s stroking himself languidly, lips parted. Dirk makes an indecipherable noise in the back of his throat, and his hands tighten on (Dirk’s) hips as he thrusts inside him. (Dirk) moans breathily, turning his head to look at him, and Dirk swallows.

“Kiss me,” whispers (Dirk), and Dirk lunges forward, their lips meeting. He hears Jake make an appreciative groan.

A particularly hard thrust causes (Dirk’s) body to jerk forward, lips falling away from each other, and (Dirk’s) neck arches. “I’m surprised a slut like you is so tight,” murmurs Dirk.

“Not a – not a slut –“

“Of course not,” says Dirk condescendingly. He looks over at Jake to see him flushed, hair dishevelled, hand speeding up on his cock. He’s biting his lip, a crease between his eyebrows, and it’s one of the hottest things Dirk’s ever seen. “Jake,” he gasps, “Jake, fuck, get over here, _fuck –“_

Jake jumps up as though he’s been electrocuted, his jacket falling to the floor. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he says hoarsely as he does it anyway, getting on the bed. He attempts to kiss him, but Dirk accidentally headbutts him in the face as he pounds harder into (Dirk). “Sorry,” Dirk gasps. He’s so lost in (Dirk) that he barely registers the sound of the lube cap popping open, and flinches in surprise when he feels Jake spread his asscheeks, a cold finger pushing into his entrance. “Oh, _fuck!”_

“Is he fucking you?” asks (Dirk), voice rough with desire.

“None of your business,” replies Dirk. “Focus on _me,_ Dirky.”

“Sorry,” breathes (Dirk), and moans as Dirk thrusts against his prostate, clenching his fists on the sheets.

Dirk lets out a sharp cry and Jake’s cock breaches him, and oh _fuck,_ he’d forgotten how fucking _big_ Jake is. “Jake – _Jake –“_ The feeling of Jake driving into him, with his hands holding onto his hips bruisingly hard, is far too overwhelming, and with a groan he climaxes. He pulls out of (Dirk) and turns him over weakly, (Dirk)’s erection jutting upwards. Dirk dips his head, engulfing (Dirk)’s cock, who lets out a breathy gasp.

“Go on,” Jake snarls. “Fuck his throat.”

(Dirk) pushes his head down, thrusting to the back of Dirk’s throat, who chokes. “I see you haven’t trained your gag reflex as well as I,” he says as Dirk gags around him, tears gathering in his eyes.

Jake makes a primordial growl in the back of his throat, pounding into Dirk harder, harder, _harder._ (Dirk) holds his head still as he fucks into his throat, ignoring the saliva dripping down his chin and the tears running down his throat.

“Not so high and mighty now, are we, _Prince,”_ hisses (Dirk), and Dirk makes an indecipherable muffled noise in response. (Dirk)’s grip is tight on his hair, and for a moment Dirk thinks he’s going to rip it out entirely. (Dirk) shudders, and then comes, his release pulsing down Dirk’s throat. He chokes, half of it spilling from his mouth, and after (Dirk) pulls out he slaps him.

“You’re not even good at being a whore,” says (Dirk), and Dirk trembles, gasping. Jake grabs Dirk’s hair, pulling his head back savagely.

“ _Jake!”_ screams Dirk. “Jake, fuck, it hurts, _Jake –“_ Jake’s hand goes to his throat, squeezing, and as Dirk gasps for breath Jake’s seed paints his insides. Dirk’s still shaking, half in pleasure and half in pain, his poor overstimulated cock attempting to become erect in vain.

“Fuck,” whispers Dirk. “God –“ He slumps to the mattress as Jake drops him, and he lies there, twitching. Jake pushes him into a sitting position, kissing his cheek.

“I suppose I’ll let you go,” he says. “I already have one Dirk. I don’t need another.” His eyes glimmer like shards of glass. “But you’d better not venture into this timeline again, _Prince._ I may not be feeling so merciful next time.”

Dirk bows his head. “Yes. Alright.” He begins to get dressed, eyes on the floor. “It was nice to see you, English. May we never meet again.”


End file.
